Riddle Story of a Devil
by DylantheRabbit
Summary: I suppose that for this to be a real confession I should start at the beginning. Or at the beginning of the end at least. At the point where my grandmere died and I was claimed by a new and powerful Magical guardian and shipped of to another country. A dark and angsty fic that will quickly earn it's M rating. OC centric as Voldemort's daughter embarks on her bloody adventure.
1. Chapter 1

**This idea had been driving me insane (well more insane than I am already) for the best part of half a year, just needling away in the back of my brain, nip, nip, nipping at me until I finally caved in and started to write it down.**

 **If you hadn't guessed from the summary this story is going to be considerably darker than my usual fare. Not much in the way of fluff and fun here I'm afraid as this is from that deep, dark place at the depressive end of my mind which makes, thankfully, infrequent appearances. Unfortunately for you that also means rather infrequent updates as, for my own mental health, I can't stay in this kind of a mood for long. Although I have found that 'writing it out' is a much more productive use of these depressive spirals, that I get caught in every now and again, than sitting, brooding in a darkened room.**

 **This is the first time I have written in 'first person' perspective so please forgive any rookie errors that I may make along the way.**

 **.**

 **I'm not JKR and I don't make any money from this. Which is a bit of a shame.**

 **DtR xx.**

 **.**

 **((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))**

 **Riddle; Story of a Devil.**

.

 **Prologue. Confession.**

.

Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been twenty five years since my last confession.

That is how I would start if I actually could bring myself to walk into that pretty little catholic church at the bottom of the hill upon which my home sits. But I can't. Far too much time has passed and I have done far too many terrible things in my life for the pere to forgive me now. Still the exercise of confession itself may have some merit as it may provide me with at least a modicum of catharsis. Very well then, I shall do as many before me have done and write my confession out. I shall lay out all the truths that I have hidden and the sins that I have committed in a letter to posterity and in the style of a true penitent.

I give my story to those who come after and let them do with it as they will.

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My name is Marie Deschamps and this is my confession.

Of course it won't be much of a confession if I start it off with a whopper of a lie like that.

My name is not Deschamps. It is Riddle.

.

I was born in late September of 1979 and given the name Therese Mercedes Riddle, daughter of a simple French country witch and the worst Dark Lord to vent his malevolent will upon Europe for four centuries. Not that he had had any kind of a clue that he had impregnated the dumb salope of a temporary maid who he had his wicked way with at the Bordeaux Castle fundraiser that night. He would not know that little detail until almost a year later and if he had he would certainly have hit her with a post coital contraceptive charm instead of assuming that the slutty bitch had done it herself before their encounter.

Of course once he did know he had sent one of his most trusted Death Eaters, the feared and fearsome Bellatrix Lestrange, to the dingy apartment in Bordeaux in order to carry out a little post natal termination. Luckily for me grandmere was visiting and got me out of the apartment before I was killed. Mother was not so fortunate. She bought my survival with her life just as a little over a year later another mother would more famously buy the survival of her own son with her life. This act was without a doubt the most note worthy thing that she had done with her life although in the years to come many, myself included, would wish that she had not done it.

It turned out that this being orphaned by Voldemort was not the only thing that Harry Potter and I had in common. There were many parallels in the lives of myself and the 'boy-who-lived' and it was honestly a shame that I had to ...

Ah but we are getting ahead ourselves. Everything in it's proper order as they say.

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The house that I occupy these days is very different from the one where I grew up. The main one I suppose is that this is a large, comfortable Roman style villa and that one was dirty, shabby, hovel of a shack in a dirty backwater in the rural west of France. They are technically in the same country I suppose but looking out across the sparkling, azure, glory of the Mediterranean Sea beyond my balcony it certainly doesn't feel like it. There is not nearly enough rain that falls here and considerably less in the way of mud.

Our home back then was little more than a large wooden shed, complete with it's single lapped wooden outer shell, that froze in the winter and baked in the summer. The charms that grandmere used to make the temperature more bearable, one way or the other, were only cast in the direst of need as she required most of her magical energy for the planting and brewing that brought in the funds for our survival. I never begrudged her doing that as it was only done for our benefit. It is always easier to pull on an extra blanket when the cold bites than to eat something that does not exist when your hunger comes calling. Still even with her almost constant brewing it was often not enough to make ends meet and we had to keep a few scraggy chickens and a too thin cow to ensure that we would not starve.

These animals were my responsibility from the time that I could walk and it gave me two things that I would come to rely on in the future. One was the rather healthy attitude that if I didn't do things for myself then they would not get done and the other was my hardy constitution and well muscled body. The first of these led me to teach myself to read, which grandmere seemed to approve of, perhaps in the hope that I didn't repeat the mistakes of my mother and the second enabled me to fight. Something that was unfortunately necessary as the children of the nearby magical village were cruel and often violent in their ignorance. I was six when I beat one of them insensible with a rock after he punched me for being a bastard and a pauper and we were left alone from that day on. Though the village relied on grandmere for their healing potions we were outcasts in all but name. The fact that we were Roman Catholics in a pagan society didn't help.

It was a lonely existence for me with just my grandmere for company. My childhood was full of chores as is the experience of most of those who live a life of subsistance farming as we did but I still made time to read every book that I could beg, borrow or steal to get my hands on. Just as many of these were muggle as they were magical and my attempts at self education were somewhat patchy at best until it came to brewing. Grandmere, in all her pragmatic glory, decided that if I learnt the subtle and ancient art of potions then I would be even more help to her and may help to relieve some of her constant burden so a minor miracle happened and she ordered an actual magical textbook for me.

This was something of a revelation for a child who thirsted for and yet was starved of knowledge and I took to it with a passion and total committment that impressed the old woman. This was evident in the fact that she taught me with a vicious ferocity that only comes when the master sees true potential in their student and grows angry when they feel that it is being wasted or not taken seriously enough. That was never a problem for me as I loved the business of potioneering but the slightest mistake on my part would have grandmere spitting and cursing in rage. It perhaps wasn't an ideal way to learn but it did have the advantage of making me extremely careful in order to avoid those mistakes.

Outside of our lessons we did not speak much and I had no male role models growing up other than the pere of the local church where my grandmere occasionally took me to worship. Even then he was a distant and disapproving figure who rarely looked upon me with any form of kindness. I was the bastard child of the bastard child of a mad old woman that lived in a shack in the styx and was widely considered (rightly as it happens) among his flock to be a witch so I can't really blame him for that.

Forty some years previously grandmere had engaged in very brief entanglement with the leader of a group of occupying mages in the great European conflict of that time. What she did not know, and I only found out many years later, was that he was actually the leader of all the mages and indeed the instigator of the entire conflict, Gellert Grindlewald. The witch was then in her early sixties and although still rather buxom and good looking had believed herself to be well beyond child bearing age so was inordinately surprised when she discovered some weeks later that she was pregnant. It was a similar way to which her daughter had become encumbered with me. Unlike her, however she was on her own and decided that a child would be a useful tool to help in her small holding.

My mother's upbringing was almost identical to my own with the exception that she did not possess my unquenchable thirst for learning new things. She was a mediocre witch at best, barely more than a squib if truth be told, and a less than intelligent human being which is why she never performed the contraceptive charm after her liason with my father. She didn't know it. Unsurprising as she had never been to either a muggle or a magical school and, not having the talent or inclination to teach herself as I had, could hardly read more than a few words.

I'm sure that you will agree that this was a less than ideal way for a young woman to grow up and although she did fly the nest eventually to try out a new life in the magical section of Bordeaux she never prospered. Living in a tiny apartment and taking part time work whenever she could get it, selling herself when she couldn't her life was not easy, nor was it pretty. Grandmere stayed in contact with her and helped out when she could but my mother was stubborn and not very clever and I was definitely not the first child to fill her womb but I was the first and only one to continue past the two month stage and on to full term.

I have a suspicion that this may have had something to do with grandmere as she _could_ read and had a wealth of knowledge of those dark and dangerous potions that she was always brewing as well as access to the necessary ingredients. Most of which she grew herself in a small, filthy and over-run greenhouse in the corner of her garden. It did not require a great stretch of the imagination to see her slipping something into my mother's food to end an unwanted pregnancy that would see another mouth to feed on their paltry budget. Why she decided that I was worth the bother when those others weren't has always been something of a mystery to me.

Regardless I ended up at the old woman's shack for better or worse and lived the same life that my mother had minus the miskaken belief that all you need is a strong wizard to take care of you. Given my family tree and my loveless chidhood it was honestly not that much of a shock that I ended up as a Dark Lady really.

Apparently getting knocked up by a Dark Lord is something of a tradition among the females of my mother's family. One that I certainly won't be continuing.

You see I have always been what you might call a 'witches witch' and while preferring the exclusive company of your own sex is not unheard of in the magical world it isn't exactly common. But that's me all over really. A very uncommon witch. And a very queer one at that. I knew it from the moment that I first walked into the great hall at Hogwarts and saw all of those lovely, sweet smelling girls laid out in rows before me like some delicious banquet at which I was the guest of honour.

Like so many before me when I saw the sheer, rich variety of nubile young womanhood displayed in front of me for the first time it was the blondes that immediately drew my attention. When I chose to sit beside one that night, however, and got my first sight of her incredible silver eyes and my first taste of her unique personality all the others faded from my view. I was hers from the moment that she laid her small, perfect, pale hand on my arm and began to prattle away to me in a language that I didn't understand.

Not that knowing how to speak English at that time would have particularly helped me out on that front. My love always did a very _special_ way of communicating.

.

The thought causes the ghost of a smile to pass my lips as I watch my current lover stopping briefly to fuss over the magnificent floweres spilling from their raised wall beds. Lover is a bit of a mis-nomer for what she is really. The girl is my pet, my plaything and nothing more. She is there to fill in the time when I grow bored of reading my spell crafting texts, a diversion to keep me occupied and away from my own thoughts. It has nothing to do with love that is for sure.

There has only been one love in my life. My 'Grande Amour'. The quirky girl with the strange silver eyes and the breathy, dream-like voice. _She_ was my everything, the sun literally rose and set for me on her command and this primping, preening pillow princess in front of me is nothing but a pale imitation.

And when she died something inside of me broke and what had lain buried deep in my soul roared as it broke free.

The beast that had hidden far below the surface had then escaped to wreak it's bloody vengence and when Voldemort finally fell it was naturally his vanquisher that the sheep of Wizarding Britain turned to. Instead of a Dark Lord they had set up a Queen, not dark but terrible and beautiful as the dawn, tempestuous as the sea and stronger than the foundations of the Earth. All who looked upon me loved me ... and despaired. My light which came from _her_ was gone and all that was left was the darkness. A darkness that I fully embraced.

I have hunted and killed many different people for many different reasons. For vengence for my slain lover, for the protection of my people, for justice, most recently for a place to live, but all of those have some justification, however warped in it's conception. The reason that all of these deaths really occured though was the reason that could _never_ be justified. The unpalatable truth is that I killed all of those people because I liked it. I killed them because it was fun. The beast had been unleashed and there is nothing that the beast loved more than blood.

My Britain started out as a just and fair society and the sheep were more than happy to bend their knees to me and call me saviour. Mistress. Queen. Of course it was not a good place to live if you were in opposition to me. My responses to the threats of those who, all too often, came seeking my throne were swift and vicious. Blood flowed and the beast fed.

It couldn't go on forever. In fact there hadn't been a 'Dark' administration that had lasted for more than a couple of decades since the mighty Atilla's Hunic horde had swept up out of their balkan strongholds a milennium and a half ago. Mine was about average at fourteen years but in the end it was more about keeping hold of my power than helping my people so resistances were bound to rise. Some I put down, usually with brutal efficiency and a great deal of bloodshed to discourage others, but soon enough another would come along and eventually I saw the writing on the wall.

I will admit to some pride as I _am_ one of the only Dark rulers in history to simply give up my reign and walk away rather than fight it out to the bitter and inevitable end of my untimely death. So I gathered up some gold along with a few irreplaceable items and my latest in a long line of sex pets and I walked off into the sunset.

Not that I actually walked obviously, more like apparated, port-keyed and then jumped on a muggle train to the South of France, but I believe that I am allowed the occasional flowery descriptive phrase in my ramblings.

Speaking of flowery brings me back full circle to my current companion who, having finished her floral ministrations, is now seemingly intent on teasing my libido with her bikini clad gyrations to some awful, saccharine muggle tune. She isn't to know that the feelings that she is attempting to stir up are all tied into the beast. The beast who howls for her blood while using her body as it's taught and fleshy playground. Dumb bitch.

Not that I can blame her for that. It's why I chose her after all. They all have some similar characteristics in common, my playthings, like their long, light blonde hair, short, slim stature and grey eyes to resemble the physical presence of the girl who, even now, still holds what is left of my shattered heart. They don't have her intelligence of course but then so few people could claim to. Granger could have but even if she had the physical attributes of my love she would never have succumbed to my charms, Certainly not after I did ... what I did to her friends.

I briefly consider disposing of the tiresome, blonde creature before deciding that having to go through the effort of finding someone to replace her with is far too much to be bothered with right now. She will have to be kept, at the very least, until I finish my new project and can afford the time to go off looking for someone to take her place.

As is all too usual these days my thoughts have wandered off the topic at hand. I am supposed to be giving you the story of my life not some loose, random diatribe on how I choose my sexual partners. I beg your forgiveness for this and for all my other offences. Don't give it yet though you haven't heard anywhere near the worst of it.

.

So let us make a start.

I suppose that for this to be a real confession I should start at the beginning. Or at the beginning of the end at least. At the point where my grandmere died and I was claimed by a new and powerful Magical guardian and shipped off to another country.

I should start at the Castle which actually is a school in the north of Scotland and with a girl called Luna.

.

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 **.**

 **A shortish little prologue to set us up. We get to the real stuff next.**

 **As usual I write for me. Honestly I really don't mind if nobody else reads this at all but reviews are always nice and I'd certainly never turn them away, just don't get caught up in the whole 'they would never do that' trap. This is all going to be pretty AU stuff.**

 **.**

 **DtR xx.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This idea had been driving me insane (well more insane than I am already) for the best part of half a year, just needling away in the back of my brain, nip, nip, nipping at me until I finally caved in and started to write it down.**

 **If you hadn't guessed from the summary this story is going to be considerably darker than my usual fare. Not much in the way of fluff and fun here I'm afraid as this is from that deep, dark place at the depressive end of my mind which makes, thankfully, infrequent appearances. Unfortunately for you that also means rather infrequent updates as, for my own mental health, I can't stay in this kind of a mood for long. Although I have found that 'writing it out' is a much more productive use of these depressive spirals, that I get caught in every now and again, than sitting, brooding in a darkened room.**

 **This is actually quite a nice, normal chapter. Not exactly fluff but more neutral setup. Don't worry, that's not going to last long. I promised dark and it will definitely get there trust me. Maybe not this chapter or even the next but soon and with a vengence.**

 **This is the first time I have written in 'first person' perspective so please forgive any rookie errors that I may make along the way.**

 **.**

 **I'm not JKR and I don't make any money from this. Which is a bit of a shame.**

 **DtR xx.**

 **.**

 **((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))**

 **Riddle; Story of a Devil.**

.

 **Chapter 1. A beginning**

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Grandmere's funeral was not exactly a well attended affair. Myself and Pere Robert along with a leering gravedigger or two were all that were there that bright, late summer Friday morning at the small graveyard attached to St Francis' Catholic Church. Or at least so I thought.

As I thanked the pere and started to make my way to the lychgate I saw a tall, white bearded old gentleman in a black frock coat that would have been out of style when my grandmere was a girl watching me. He was clearly a magical and just as clearly wished to speak to me on a matter relating to my recently deceased relative or my situation although what that could be I had no idea. My sixteenth birtday was a little under six weeks away and i didn't for one moment believe that the authorities would bother with placing me in the care of a guardian for that short space of time. As it happened I was very wrong.

"Good morning Miss Riddle, my condolences on your tragic loss."

At my furrowed brow and brief 'quoi?' the oddly dressed old man switched to butchering my native language with a broken and clearly very rarely used version of antiquated French. He gave his name as Albus Dumbledore and immediately asked if I knew anything of my father. My response to this enquiry may have been a little bad tempered due to the circumstances of the morning's event and, knowing my uneven temper, it would not surprise me if I had insulted him as well as the man who supplied my genes. I am sure that he only caught about a third of what I was saying but it seemed to put his mind somewhat at rest as he gave a large sigh and asked if he might accompany me home so that we could have a discussion on my future.

He may have attempted conversation on our walk back to the village but honestly I was rather pre-occupied, not only with the fact that I had just buried my grandmere, but with the healing potion base that I had put on to simmer before leaving. In combination with his atrocious accent I will admit that this made me take very little interest in what the strange, old Englishman was saying to me.

Once back at what was now my shack the old boy's ramblings ceased as he seemed to do a bit of a double take when he realised that this dirty, broken down old shed was actually where I lived. Again I paid no attention to him in favour of turning to attend to my brewing. I suspect that he may have spent some time watching me at my work, perhaps deciding on which of his pre-determined courses of action he would be taking today. Knowing what I now know of the man I have no doubt that this was precisely what he was doing.

After I had finished my work with all of the painstaking precision that grandmere had drilled into me I made the two of us some tea and joined him at the roughly hewn table. Giving me a somewhat forced looking smile he began laying out documents before me, none of which I could read as they were all in English, he started to explain what they were and my options in regard to them. From what I could understand those options were very few. Non existent in fact. The only piece of parchment-work that mattered in this sheaf was that this man had been legally appointed by both the French and British authorities as my legal magical guardian and what he said went at the end of the day. That much I understood.

I think that we were both rather relieved when he left with nothing being decided between us.

.

The next day when this Albus Dumbledore arrived at my home it was less of a surprise for us both and the fact that he arrved with someone who could actually speak my language without torturing it helped a lot too. This Madame Vector made the resulting conversation a lot less stressful for everyone involved and I was very grateful for her presence right up to the point at which the reason for his visit became apparent.

The previously viewed documents were brought out again and this time Madame Vector's explanation of them, this time in perfectly understandable modern French made a great deal more sense to me. As I had surmised the most important was the guardianship document. Important but dull, the others held a much more exciting prospect, chief among them being the full financial scholarship to a prestigious British boarding school for the next three years.

School.

That place to which, more than any other, I had dreamed of going for so long. And not just any school. This Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one of the three most famous educational establishments in Europe. So much so that even out here in the arse end of nowhere we had heard of it. Giddy was not a word that could be applied to my emotions in my life so far but it was definitely appropriate now.

I could hardly believe that this was really happening to me. The teasing, phantom idea of three whole years of proper education ahead of me almost caused me to forget a few important things. Like the fact that this school was in Britain and I couldn't speak a word of English or that I had not attended any kind of school before and would be far behind everyone else in my studies.

At least in terms of these issues my fears were put at ease by Madame Vector's assurances of extra tuition as and when it was required and Monsieur Dumbledore, who it turned out was the headmaster of Hogwarts, telling me that every effort would be made to integrate me into life there. It was all an absolute crock of shit of course but at the time it was very convincing for a girl like me who was looking for any and all reasons to believe that it was possible for her dreams to come true.

It wouldn't be long before the dream would become a nightmare but right then I was prepared to accept pretty much any conditions that these people made if it meant that I got to attend a proper school. So now when I was being requested to pack up any of my meagre belongings in this place that I deemed to be essential or of emotional value I set to with an enthusiasm that made my English visitors smile.

The only things that I ended up taking was the battered old cauldron and grandmere's box of her favourite preparation knives and stirring rods. I literally had nothing else. There were no photographs as a camera was a luxury that my family had never been able to afford, no scrap books either since we had never done anything of note. It was a pathetically small collection of heirlooms for three generations of witches to have assebled in their lifetimes and the embarrassment that I felt for that fact was mirrored in the faces of my guests.

"Ne vous inquiétez pas pour ça mon petit chout. Vous avez beaucoup des temps pour faire vos propres souvenirs." (Dont worry about it little one. You have plenty of time to make your own memories.)

The words from the kind woman had me swiping my eyes to clear the unexpected moisture from them before I could manage a simple nod of gratitude and inform them that I was ready to leave.

I fed the animals for the last time, set fire to the greenhouse and penned a quick note to Pere Robert leaving the property to the Church which Dumbledore promised to deliver and we were off to Britain and my new life. The port-key was an uncomfortable experience for me as I had never before used any form of magical transportation and the destination was less than inspiring, a public house, but hopefully it would just be a stepping stone for me on my journey.

The fact that I was required to stay here for the remainder of the ten days before the school started did not phase me and my room, in stark contrast to the rest of the establishment, turned out to be quite clean and comfortable. Certainly more so than anything that I was used to back home.

.

Bearing in mind that, other than my visits to the local church, I had never left my village before my first sight of the magical shopping district at Diagon Alley was always going to leave me awestruck and a bit breathless. There were plenty of nerves as well of course due to me not having dealt with many, or indeed, any people before and I was like the proverbial peasant girl on her first visit to the big city. It was intimidating and overwhelming and I soon found myself falling back on my old habit of quiet observation while my guide, the once again available Madame Vector sympathetically tried to ease my nerves with conversation. I did have to wonder how good of a professor she was if she were able to simply take days off with a little over a week before the school term was due to start but decided to cut her some slack since she was doing it to help me out.

Purchases of anything that were not the occasional book wasn't something that I was very used to doing and I was very glad of the calming influence of the efficient woman by my side that day. She had turned up at my room early on the morning of my first full day in my new country to inform me that we were going shopping for my school uniform, textbooks and other supplies and received one of my rare, real smiles for her trouble along with a hug that lasted long enough to embarrass us both. Once we were under way, however, and the sights, sounds and smells of the Alley were threatening to over-come my country girl sensibilities I did notice with pleasure that she took my hand and held tightly to it for the rest of the day.

I relaxed and we actually started to have a bit of fun selecting robes from Malkins and haggling for seldom used but always useful potions supplies to supplement the school list. I think that we smiled more that day than either of us were used to doing. Yes alright it was soppy but to the affection starved girl that I was back then Septima Vector was like my own personal angel that day and I would never forget her kindness to even in the worst of the bad times to come.

The wand shop was probably my least favourite place that we visited that day. It wasn't so much the premises itself as it was the creepy old man who pounced on us from the shadows and nearly earned himself my fist in his face for his trouble. And it didn't get much better when he finally got down to business after doing something of a double take when he heard my name. The old man seemed very nervous if his constant muttering was anything to go by as I tried wand after wand, none of which met with his approval until finally he gave me a dark wood focus that produced an impressive array of purple sparks when waved.

Despite the success he appeared to be, if anything, more displeased than when he started but since professor Vector had been rather tight lipped during our visit here I was unsure as to why that should be. But hey I had another of those things for which I had longed for many years. A wand. My wand. My first wand. And what a wand it was. Smooth, dark, ebony wood, unadorned apart from a dragon's head carved into the grip which gave me my only clue as to it's core.

Nestled comfortably in my palm it felt as if it fit me like a warm glove on a cold winters day. It felt ... right and it was a real struggle for me to put it back in the polished mahogany box that the old man produced. I could have sworn that I heard it calling out to me that it wanted, _needed_ to be in my hand not hidden away and stifled in this wooden prison. Frankly I agreed but under the close scrutiny of the two adults it didn't seem adviseable to push the matter, especially since Madame Vector had apparently found her voice again and explained that, here in Britain, I could not legally use it outside of class until I turned seventeen.

Since that was still over a year away I was not pleased at this piece of information but kept my face schooled to a neutral expression while nodding my agreement. Yes it was not ideal but abiding by the archaic regulations of this country was simply the price I had to pay for my chance at an education. Something that I learned early on in life. There is always a price for what we do.

Soon enough all the necessary books supplies were acquired along with a French-English-French dictionary and I was returned to my room at The Leaky Cauldron. A pleasant lunch shared with my guide, who was much more garrulous now that the stressful task of shopping had been completed, and I could at last begin to tear into my shiny, new schoolbooks. No matter that I couldn't read them yet, I had my dictionary, huge reserves of patience and nine more days with nothing else to do. It was heaven for me.

.

On the First of September Madame Vector had once more arrived at my lodgings to collect me at a little before six that evening and the Arithmancy professor immediately set about shrinking and pocketing my trunk while I settled the bill with Tom. I would have been sad to leave this most comfortable of lodgings had it not been for our destination. Hogwarts school.

It has been more than twenty years since then but I still remember my first sight of Hogwarts Castle as if it were yesterday. The excitement had been building in my mind all day, giving me probably entirely unrealistic expectations of the place but I have to say that even compared with my over eager imaginings it did not disappoint.

As we made our way up to the gates I was struck totally dumb by the magnificence of the ancient castle with it's tall towers lit up and the warm, glowing welcome of the main entrance, it's doors open wide in invitation to me. I felt as if I had finally found that special place for which I had been searching for my whole life. It was perfect and made even more so when the distant whistle of the express sounded from somewhere outside the village below us. I understood then that I had been brought up here slightly early in order to avoid the mad rush of other students and the thought that I had been given the special priveledge of seeing it empty and unsullied like this made me effusive in my thanks to my guide.

I suspect that I was in a worse state than when we had first visited the Alley in London as my head was constantly on the move, swivelling to take in the next sight, each more impressive than the last, as I was led to a small chamber and told to wait. There were certainly worse places that I could be pushed into to wait upon the whims of the headmaster and his staff as it was filled with curious items and moving portraits. I was managing to distract myself quite successfully, having found a portrait of very chatty and giggly French milk maid to engage in a conversation of husbandry techniques with, when my attention was caught by something shiny on one of the tables. Unfortunately I have always had a bit of a weakness for shiny things. It has got me into trouble more times than I care to recount.

Making my excuses to the charming mademoiselle I hopped over to the previously espied sparkly object and began a thorough investigation of it. Ten minutes of 'thorough investigation' later and I still had absolutely no idea what it was but decided to pocket it anyway when my name was called by someone and I was up and on the move while trying not to look too guilty.

Walking from the side chamber where I had been waiting and into the great hall of Hogwarts was more of a shock to me than Diagon Alley had been. Even though I knew, intellectually speaking, that this was a large school I was completely unprepared for the sheer number of students that sat staring at me with varying degrees of interest and/or suspicion as I crossed the stage. My name it seemed had had quite an effect on some of the people within the great hall and being an obvservant sort I flicked my eyes around their various expressions.

In the student section there was shock and fear from a tallish, striking, ginger haired girl and this prompted a protective set of the jaw from the black haired boy and brunette girl on either side of her as they stared daggers at me. It was an interesting reaction to be sure but I found that the honest incredulity from the greasy looking man at the staff table to be much more so. Especially when it began to morph into a cunning leer. I could almost see the gears in his mind working. What they all found so interesting about me I had not the slightest inkling but I doubted that it would be good.

My observations were brought to a swift close, however, as the stern woman in the ridiculous pointy hat gently but firmly sat me down on a small, three legged stool and dropped a moth eated and raggedy old hat over my head.

 _"Ah bonjour Mademoiselle Riddle, I have been waiting a very long time to meet you."_

I tried to turn my head to see who was talking to me, disoriented for a few moments before I realised that it was the hat who had spoken. Of course 'spoken' wasn't quite the right word.

 _"The house of your ancestors would be the obvious choice and you certainly have the ambition for it but I fear that you would not fare so well there. Hmm, perhaps your thirst for knowledge should be my guide here. Tell me my dear what do you consider to be the greatest thing that you desire, what do you hunger for. Knowledge or Power?"_

I remember thinking to myself two things at this point. First, who exactly were these ancestors and why had they gone here? And second, that this was a ridiculous question to ask as you quite obviously could not have power without first having the knowledge to grant you the means of achieving it. This sorting hat fellow clearly agreed with me.

 _"Exactly! Oh I do so love the clever ones. Even more so when they don't know who they are yet. Off you go then to ..."_

"Ravenclaw!"

The muted applause that greeted this shout from the suddenly removed headgear was not overly enthusiastic even from what was now my own House but I dutifully followed the always helpful professor Vector's instruction to seat myself at the blue clad table.

On the short walk there I considered where I should seat myself and had just made up my mind to sit next to the rest of the new intake when I spotted a shock of long, bright blonde hair. My feet then simply refused to acknowledge the signals being sent from my brain and instead of going where I had intended to I ended up standing next to this girl and blinking rapidly. As she turned to indicate that I should sit she gave me the brightest smile that I had ever seen. I mean it literally lit up the entire hall.

Well that's how it seemed to me anyway.

And like the uneducated, unco-ordinated country bumpkin that I was I actually stumbled and fell into the seat next to her.

She did not have what most people consider to be classic beauty, her face was a touch too round and her eyes protruded slightly from it. But what eyes they were. I think that's what really did it for me. Those gorgeous, sparkling, flashing eyes in a shade of silver flecked grey that I had never encountered before and they were so full of life that their sheer vivacity held me in a kind of fascinated trance. I fell and I fell hard.

From the very instant that those wondrous orbs met mine I was totally gone. It was love at first sight for me and I have no shame in that admission. I know what people say about the existence of such a cliched notion as that but I also know that then, there, in that crowded and noisy dining hall it happened to me.

"Hello, I'm Luna Lovegood." She peered at me closely over a spoonful of pudding. "Wow you're very pretty aren't you."

And she was off.

I actually found her constant, breathy chatter very calming and although I could understand barely a single word that the peculiarly beautiful girl spoke to me I smiled at her, put my elbows on the table and my chin in my hands and let the words wash over me. I'm pretty sure that I looked like a complete idiot staring at her like that but she didn't seem to mind in the least. Not if her constant little touches and shuffling that brought her thigh into contact with mine were anything to go by anyway. The lightning that shocked me at each new brush of those magical fingers was making it warmer and harder to breathe and her arm working it's way around my waist to squeeze me tight against her did nothing to disapate that feeling.

Before too long the feast was done and it was time for us to head off to our Houses. I'm certain that I would have been gawking at my surroundings as much as any of the first years as we made our way through the castle to Ravenclaw Tower except that my eyes were rivetted on the lightly skipping blonde beside me. The trip was a blur and I noticed nothing but her until suddenly we were stood in a large, circular, book strewn room.

Our diminutive Head of House had somehow managed to get to the Ravenclaw common room before us greeted his students one by one as they entered. Apparently this was a bit of a tradition in the House of blue and bronze and a point of pride that professor Flitwick always beat the students back here despite leaving the feast after them. Although I would come to enjoy it in later years it was all a bit lost on me this night. Until he took advantage of my inattention to ambush me that is.

"Good evening young lady, you must be our new transfer student. Miss Riddle yes?"

If he had waited for an answer he would have been disappointed as I simply stared at him uncomprehending but he hadn't. He was chattering away at high speed which almost, but not quite, matched that of the little blonde cuddle monkey at my side. Although I could read some English I hadn't really tried to speak it yet and even if I had the rate that the words were spilling from his mouth would still have made it impossible for me to understand.

This was utterly ridiculous. Had nobody told the man that I only spoke French? I decided to do something to stop his ranting.

"I am not speak zee Eengleesh."

That stopped him in his tracks alright. Although whether it was the fact of my statement or my terrible first attempt at speaking his language that did it I wasn't quite sure. What I did know was that, after taking a moment to process it he shot off only to reappear half a minute later with an arm full of books and big smile before shooing the pair of us off to the dorms.

The wonderful little man had raided his own personal library to get me translations of his Charms texts and even a beginners guide to spoken English. My opinion of him improved drastically and I started to hope that I might not be so lost here as I had feared. Meanwhile my little blonde bundle of energy was busy dragging me up some stairs to the girls dorms and bathrooms.

"Come on Therese, this is our room."

Wait. What? Seeing my trunk at the foot of one bed and her jumping up and down on the other had got the meaning of her non sensical words across to me with great efficiency. Oh, no, no, no, this was too much. I could not be sharing a bedroom with her. My rabbit in the headlghts look must have gained her attention because she bounced up to me, relieved me of my books and then led me by the hand, unresisting to the middle of what was to be our room.

My over-whelming day, at last took it's toll and I collapsed onto my bed with two thoughts chasing each other round and round in my brain before sleep finally overtook me. I was at Hogwarts and I was in love. Merde, what a day.

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 **As usual I write for me. Honestly I really don't mind if nobody else reads this at all but reviews are always nice and I'd certainly never turn them away, just don't get caught up in the whole 'they would never do that' trap. This is all going to be pretty AU stuff.**

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 **DtR xx.**


	3. Chapter 3

**If you hadn't guessed from the summary this story is going to be considerably darker than my usual fare. Not much in the way of fluff and fun here I'm afraid as this is from that deep, dark place at the depressive end of my mind which makes, thankfully, infrequent appearances. Unfortunately for you that also means rather infrequent updates as, for my own mental health, I can't stay in this kind of a mood for long. Although I have found that 'writing it out' is a much more productive use of these depressive spirals, that I get caught in every now and again, than sitting, brooding in a darkened room.**

 **This is the first time I have written in 'first person' perspective so please forgive any rookie errors that I may make along the way.**

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 **I'm not JKR and I don't make any money from this. Which is a bit of a shame.**

 **DtR xx.**

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 **Riddle; Story of a Devil.**

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 **Chapter 2. Big School.**

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My first week at Hogwarts was a blur of activity and meetings designed to test my skill level in the core classes since those were all that I would be taking. With the linguistic assistance of Madame Vector, who was taking time out of her own busy schedule to tutor me in English, I took papers and practised wand movements and spells with all of my new professors. I did passably well in most of these, considering that everything I had learned previously was self taught and limited by what books I could acquire, but as expected it was in Potions where I really shone.

I honestly believed that given access to the appropriate texts and ingredients I could have passed my Potions NEWT right then and there if the 'catch up' work that I was given was any indication. The greasy haired, hook nosed professor Snape actually seemed to agree with me on this point which assertion he then voiced, startling those among the staff that heard it. He was still a creepy, bloody nonce in my considered opinion by he was a creepy, bloody nonce who was at least skilled enough to be impressed by the excellent standard of my brewing.

It was very disconcerting for me to have the horrid man so close to me, hovering around, watching every move that I made, observing the little rituals that I followed in order to make the most effective use of my time. And all the while I felt those cunning, beady eyes on me, flicking every now and then to my face with an expression of wonder before his mask slipped quickly back into place. After our first three hour session when I made everything from burn paste to amortentia he indicated that I should pack up my things and be prepared to join his seventh year class the next week. Although considering my relatively light workload compared to the rest of the students at the school he informed me that he would be expecting me to tutor the younger years.

The consensus of opinion among the educators was that it would simply be too much work for me to catch up on two electives as well as all of the usual classes and the potions tutoring that was now expected of me. Surprisingly perhaps for someone with my absolute thirst for knowledge I agreed whole-heartedly with this decision and was more than happy to start off slowly. After all ther was nothing to stop me reading up on those subjects and coming back later on if I wanted to pursue exams or do some further study in them.

This attitude seemed to please the headmaster who had decided to provisionally enter me into the Fourth Year for all classes barring Potions to start with to see how I coped with the work before reviewing that decision at the Winter break. And so, on the tenth of September, immediately after breakfast, I walked into my first proper class at a proper school and sat down next to the girl who I had developed a massive crush on to wait for the professor.

.

My English had come on in leaps and bounds with both professors Vector and Flitwick helping out and it hadn't been more than a couple of days before I was able to hold a reasonable conversation without embarrassing myself too badly. Admitedly they were still fairly stilted and quite short but nevertheless I was getting there. I was considerably better at written English mind you which helped enormously in the first, theory based part of the class even if I was occasionally distracted by the presence of the small blonde goddess next to me.

Thankfully the class was Charms and the very wonderful professor Flitwick made it an easy and exciting experience for me. He fluttered around the classroom giving out his tidbits of advice and correcting the mistakes of his young charges, pointing them in the right direction. The most exciting thing for me of course was the opportunity to use my wand for the first time with more than one other person in the room. Unfortunately it did not go as well as I had hoped, although whether this was due mostly to my unfamiliarity with the business of incanting the spell as I cast or my nervousness around all of these other people I was unsure.

What should have been a simple spell to make a small bluebell flame appear in a glass, in my inexperienced hands, became something else entirely and resulted in purplish jet of flame shooting from my wand and setting fire to the desk. The tiny professor was immediately at the scene and worked to repair my poor handiwork. He seemed to have to work quite hard to stop the burning if the sweat on his brow was any indication and once he was done he turned to me with a puzzled expression and asked to examine my wand.

Upon receiving it he turned the ebony focus over and about, running his practised eye over it for a good few minutes before handing it back to me with a slight frown and asking me to remain behind after class.

Once everyone had left and we were alone he made sure to cast a few spells around us and began. Rather hesitantly I felt.

"Miss Riddle." The professor spoke slowly and carefully, trying to avoid any difficult words or concepts. Bless him. "Do you know what that spell was that you cast in class today. What it's called or what it does?"

"Non Monsieur le professuer, I 'ave no idea."

"This wand chose you yes?"

The sudden change of tack surprised me but I nodded carefully, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"It is a most remarkable item my dear." He seemed to be searching for the right words. "A _very_ powerful wand for a _very_ powerful magic user ... but ... almost entirely suited to 'dark' magic."

My panic at this statement must have shown on my face as I knew from my reading at least some of what the British thought of dark magic.

"Now, now Miss Riddle don't panic. That doesn't mean that it _can't_ do 'light' magic or that you have to be a dark witch to use it and even if it did that's not as a terrible a thing as you're imagining it to be, I'm sure." He patted my hand. "Of course it's probably best if others don't know about this until you have better control with this remarkable wand so, that being said, try not to use it for the rest of the day and we'll meet here after dinner so that you can practice some more. What's your next class?"

"Potions."

"Exellent, no wands there and I'll write you a pass for your last lesson of the day explaining that we will be working on your wand control this evening so you won't have to use it again today."

The little hand of my seemingly unworried Head of House was patting and stroking again in an attempt to keep me calm.

"Don't worry dear, you're not the first student to encounter this problem and I doubt that you will be the last. Rest assured we will work on this together and you'll be merrily casting away with the best of them before long."

Despite his assurances I was motified that my first lesson had ended up being such a total disaster and also that there was the very real possibility that I could be dark witch in the making. Even I knew that was a bad thing.

"Well I shan't keep you any longer Miss Riddle as I'm certain that the delightful Miss Lovegood is waiting for you outside and I don't want either of you to be late for your next class."

I didn't fail to notice his unease with me even through the cheerful and helpful facade that he somehow kept up through our conversation. The poor man was probably as freaked out as I was at the results of my first class at Hogwarts, athough since he knew that I had just cast 'fiendfire' without any conscious effort or knowledge on my part I can't really blame him. I always have been un-naturally gifted with that particular spell as my enemies can attest to. Well they could if any of them were still alive. It was still more than a little disconcerting for me back then though.

Luckily there was something waiting in the dungeons on that day that was guaranteed to cheer me up. Potions with the talented but taciturn and creepy Master Snape.

.

My first Potions class at Hogwarts was quite a fun affair for me. The seventh years that I was sharing a lab with clearly didn't think so but then professor Snape wasn't exactly nice to them or me for that matter so I couldn't really blame them for their reaction to him. For myself though, having been subjected to my grandmere's carrot and stick method of teaching which focused almost exclusively on the stick, Severus Snape was about as intimidating as a week old kitten. About as useful too since he simply wrote the most basic of instructions on a large board and then slunk off behind his desk to scowl at the 'dunderheads', offering a great deal of sarcasm but very little in the way of actual help.

I did notice, however, that the nasty tempered man could hardly keep his dark, hooded eyes off of me and when he did look away it was only to briefly sneer at another student before he was right back staring at station where I toiled away in isolation. Not that I was having to work very hard as this was a very simple potion for me and one that I was extremely familiar with. Still I had my hard learned work ethic and stuck to my usual habits of excessive and painstaking accuracy in both the preparation of the ingredients and the actual brewing. He was either very impressed or just biding his time so that he could berate me in private.

"Miss Riddle I find myself in the ... unusual position of requiring the assistance of a student."

Looking back I suppose that I should have been worried about the creepy, greasy git's intentions after that statement but as I have pointed out before I was _very_ naive back then.

"Miss Greengrass, a student in my House, is in desperate of some remedial tuition in potions as at her current skill level she will, I fear, fail her OWL in the subject rather spectacularly. Such an event cannot be permitted."

Having just experienced his piss poor and frankly lazy teaching methods for the last couple of hours I wasn't even slightly surprised about that.

"Since the Greengrass family is heavily involved in the potion ingredient industry and her father is a prominent and powerful man in certain quarters that would lead to some ... unfortunate consequences for me as her professor. Of course the consequences for her will be worse. Lord Greengrass is one of those old school Heads of House who does not take disappointment well. She is expected to pass and to pass well but without help she is more than likely to end up married off early to one of his business 'friends'."

My English still wasn't quite up to following this ranting monologue, full of fake sorrow and anger at the fate of this poor, defenceless waif who he clearly didn't give a shit about but I understood enough to get the point. The professor had obviously been paying attention to my mooning about over a certain bonde Ravenclaw and had decided to use my clearly demonstrated sexual proclivities to get me to help the girl. Naive girl with no friends? Of course I said yes.

He looked at me over his hooked nose and inclined his head slightly. I assumed that this was all the thanks that I was going to get for my 'assistance' so I packed up my brewing kit and left the classroom without further comment. Headmaster Dumbledore had assured me that he was a Potions Master of the highest calibre and I found myself hoping that, for his own sake, this was the truth as the horrid man certainly didn't have anything else going for him. Like teaching ability, manners or even basic hygiene. I grew up in a shack in the boonies where it rained pretty much constantly for nine months of the year and turned the earth to a muddy paste and I still managed to keep myself cleaner than Severus Snape.

As I came to know later his soul was just as black and dirty as his robes.

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My first session with the mysterious Miss Greengrass was to be held the very next evening and professor Snape had given the use of the Potions lab for our studies. Given my love of and proficiency in the subject this lab was one of the first places that I had learned how to get to and from so I was there a good long while ahead of time and was reading my English primer while I waited. So engrossed in this was I that I completely failed to notice the arrival of two very pretty blonde witches who were clearly sisters entering the lab.

"Hello Miss Riddle, I hear that you are to be my saviour."

"Therese."

"Oh." She looked rather surprised that I gave her me Christian name. "I'm Daphne then and this is my little sister Astoria. I hope you don't mind if she joins us, 'Tori's just _fascinated_ with brewing."

Since taking over the management of Magical Britain I have always been wary of people who smile too much. In my experience if someone is smiling sweetly at you then they're usually trying to hide something terrible that they've done wrong or they're working out exactly how they're going to fuck you over in the future. I much prefer sneerers and cringers as they're so much easier to read. Back then though I was still the simple country girl who had been transplanted into this den of pureblood politics and manipulative masters so I smiled back happily.

Contrary to the 'good' professor Snape's assertions Daphne was a fairly respectable potions brewer. It was easy to spot if you knew what to look for although she tried her best to hide it. There was no doubt that she was up to something but I regret to say that I was so hungry for this wonderful new world of friendship that I overlooked her real purpose in being here and just let it happen. Besides her little sister Astoria really was not much good and I focused most of our tutorials on her.

Both Daphne and I knew what was going on but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between us that neither of us would talk about it.

The best part of this whole arrangement was that both Daphne and Astoria Greengrass spoke French. At last I could communicate with two fellow students and if I did not have the words in English then switching to French and asking for the translation would provide me with them. And despite whatever nefarious purose there was hidden behind these 'lessons' the three of us actually became friends.

.

September quickly passed into October as I settled into the pattern of life at the castle.

Most students viewed me as something of an oddity but the fact that I kept very much to myself and was rather quiet and shy around other people meant that I very quickly integrated into my House. Ravenclaws were apparently supposed to be introspective and work focused so , for once in my life, I seemed to fit right in and was pretty much ignored by the general population of the school. There were a few openly hostile Gryffindor students who I learned were Ron and Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter (that's right the 'boy-who-lived' really didn't like me for some reason) but otherwise I was accepted with a kind of bored neutrality.

Some students were positively attentive, however. Luna was a very physically demonstrative person and was always touching or hugging me, which I will admit left me both elated at the contact and terrified that it would stop, while the Greengrass sisters had become something akin to friends. Not that I knew what friends were at that point but they seemed to be making an effort even sitting at the Ravenclaw table for lunch one day. It was the only time that I had ever seen a frown on Luna's face. It wasn't there for long, maybe only a few seconds, but it still happened and, on reflection, it should have been a warning bell for me.

But I was far too happy to be worried about such things. I had classes which I loved, school work and homework which I loved, friends which I loved and even a funny, little, blonde witch who I loved. That funny, little, blonde witch had also begun calling me 'Teri' which made it feel a bit like my heart was doing laps in my chest cavity. As far as I was concerned life was perfect.

It wouldn't stay that way for long.

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Halloween 1995 marked a couple of important things for me. This eventful evening drew a battle line between myself and the Gryffindors and it progressed my relationship with Luna to new heights.

The small, mean looking and universally hated Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Delores Umbridge was the catalyst for the trouble that occurred that night.

I was rather confused by this attitude towards her at first since she had provided a text book that was incredibly well suited to my needs as a novice in the field and let me read it in class without too much in the way of interruption. That confusion was cleared up quite quickly, however, when Luna told me that she and indeed every other student in every other year goup was using the very same book. I mean for me who had never before studied the subject it made sense to give me this, what I thought to be, introductory reading but for anyone over a second year level it would be worse than useless.

Those incapable or unable to do a great deal of independant study would find themselves failing their exams in pretty short order and were understandably upset with the woman but I continued to treat her with respect. My reasons for doing this were very simple. First the source materials that she provided were eminently suitable (for me anyway), second I had no exams this year and third and most importantly I saw how she treated those who complained. I figured that there was no point in fighting a battle you can't win with a teacher who wouldn't even be here next year if the rumours of this 'curse' on her position were true.

Others were not so practical as myself in their approach and they suffered the consequences for, what they probably believed to be, their heroic stand against Umbridge. Potter was seemingly entirely unable to ignore the woman's spiteful little barbs I heard and always responded thus becoming the focus for her retaliation which looked rather painful if what I could see of his hand at breakfast most mornings was any indication. And then at the Halloween quidditch match the damned fool handed her the opportunity to ban him from playing.

So he and his friends were in a righteous rage that night and looking for anyone who they perceived as an enemy to vent their collective spleen upon. Malfoy who appeared to be his normal sparring partner in these matches was keeping an uncharacteristically low profile so their frustration just grew. Until they met Luna and I making our way back to the dorm after the feast that is.

The 'boy-who-lived' and his two friends appeared unexpectedly from around the corner and looked about to apologise until he recognised who it was that they had almost run down.

"Oh look out here comes the Dark Daughter and her nut-job sidekick."

Dark Daughter was a new one on me and since it didn't mean anything to me I shrugged and looked to carry on walking without comment. There was no point in getting into a fight with him that I would surely lose anyway given my very recent start in learning curses and such but it seemed that he and the Weasley boy in particular weren't going to let that happen.

"I've heard about your evil wand. A dark wand for a dark witch. Daddy must be _very_ proud."

"What are you talking about? My wand isn't evil and I've even met my father." I will admit that I may have sneered somewhat here. "Whoever he may be."

"Sneaky, lying little cunt." The angry young red headed man hissed at me. "It's no wonder the only people that can stomach you are 'looney' and those two slimy snake Greengrass bitches."

Now Weasley clearly wasn't to know this yet but I do possess a quite spectacularly violent temper, however, insulting someone that you don't know and their closest, or indeed, _only_ friends is never a good idea. He should have known that it would get some kind of reaction and he may even have said it to provoke exactly that thing but to do it without knowing his target's skill level showed a an extreme lack of intelligence and forethought that was outright dangerous. To be fair the Granger girl seemed to realise this and her hasitily thrown up shield was the only reason that I didn't end up in Azkaban that night.

Her protego shield shattered at the impact from my rage fuelled blasting curse that I had no idea that I even knew and it threw all three of them hard into the wall at the end of the corridor where we were. The fact that the wall was a good twenty feet from where they had previously been standing was a testament to my fury and to the power that I apparently possessed. And it scared them. Well it scared one of them. Granger was looking at me with absolute terror in her eyes and was scrabbling on the ground for her wand until she saw that Luna, having summoned them to her, was play sword fighting herself with her's and Potter's. Weasley's wand was currently stuck in her ponytail.

I believe that we may have looked as odd a couple as anyone has ever seen as Luna and I respectively skipped happily and strode menacingly towards the now very scared downed Gryffindors. The three previously antagonistic fifth years watched with wde, saucerlike eyes as I loomed theatrically over them and growled out.

"Say what you like to me, I don't care. You are beneath my interest ... but ... insult Miss Lovegood again and I will fucking _end_ you."

My English had been getting pretty good of late but in no way was it good enough to deliver that promise to the 'golden trio' with so much venom and so little trace of my still very heavy French accent. It was very strange hearing it in my own ears I don't mind telling you.

And as quickly as the rage had come upon me it was suddenly gone. Although I put this mainly down to the quirky blonde vision of loveliness rubbing soothing circles on my back and telling me that it was all going to be okay. I smiled at her and then pausing only for Luna to post our assailants' wands through the visor of a nearby suit of armour the two of us continued our journey to the Ravenclaw tower hand in hand.

Once back in our double room I tossed my wand onto the bed and turned to check that my room-mate was alright after having witnessed me almost kill three mostly innocent people for daring to attempt to injure her with their words. Before I could speak, however, she beat me to it.

"You know you really are the most nargle free person I've ever met Teri."

"Quoi?"

She giggled at my confusion and leaned in to me, slipping her arms around my waist for a soft, warm hug before looking into my eyes.

"I'm saying thank-you."

"Oh ... mmph."

And then she kissed me.

Right on lips.

I was rivetted to the spot, totally immobile while the girl who I had been obsessing over for the last two months giggled at the shocked look on my face and bounced off to the bathroom.

How long I was stood there like that I don't seem to be able to recall but it must have been a fair while as I was still there when she returned from her pre sleep ablutions. The fact that she was dressed now in a very short, pale pink nightie complete with cute, fluffy bunny motif was certainly not helping my state of mind or my inability to move and she took advantage of this by sliding up into my arms again.

"Your eyes go a very pretty shade of red when you get angry."

Then she kissed me again and hopped into her own bed with a sleepy 'g'night Teri' while I continued to stand stock still in the dark in the middle of the room like a moron. At last a twitch at the edge of my lips began to spread until I was wearing a huge, goofy grin on my face and, still fully clothed, I dropped to the rug like a stone.

I daresay it that on that rug wasn't the most comfortable place to sleep or the warmest, although I had known worse, but it wasn't either of those things that woke me that night. It was the nightmare. The nightmare of another red eyed person standing over me with a grim, snake like face and a bone white wand chanting over and over again.

 _"Crucio, crucio, crucio."_

The level of pain was insane and it snapped me awake and left me sweating and gasping for breath. Thankfully I had managed to keep my screams at the all too real feeling agony that I had just endured bottled up in my brain so my darling Luna was un-disturbed in her peaceful slumbers. Moving to the bathroom I stripped off my damp clothes and splashed cold water on my face before returning to climb between the crisp sheets and shudder at the horror of my nightmare while not sleeping. I spent the rest of the night not sleeping. I didn't dare for fear of being sucked back into the clutches of the semi human wizard who dealt out such pain with nothing but a grim smile.

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 **As usual I write for me. Honestly I really don't mind if nobody else reads this at all but reviews are always nice and I'd certainly never turn them away, just don't get caught up in the whole 'they would never do that' trap. This is all going to be pretty AU stuff.**

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 **DtR xx.**


	4. Chapter 4

**If you hadn't guessed from the summary this story is going to be considerably darker than my usual fare. Not much in the way of fluff and fun here I'm afraid as this is from that deep, dark place at the depressive end of my mind which makes, thankfully, infrequent appearances. Unfortunately for you that also means rather infrequent updates as, for my own mental health, I can't stay in this kind of a mood for long. Although I have found that 'writing it out' is a much more productive use of these depressive spirals, that I get caught in every now and again, than sitting, brooding in a darkened room.**

 **I seem to have rediscovered my form a bit as well as my muse so prepare for a bit of an updating frenzy. For this one, we're not getting too bloody yet, but it's getting closer and we're getting ever darker. No character deaths in this chapter but they're coming. And soon.**

 **This is the first time I have written in 'first person' perspective so please forgive any rookie errors that I may make along the way.**

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 **I'm not JKR and I don't make any money from this. Which is a bit of a shame.**

 **DtR xx.**

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 **Riddle; Story of a Devil.**

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 **Chapter 3. Family Misfortunes.**

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Since Halloween night, life at Hogwarts had been a veritable rollercoaster of emotions for me.

A great deal of the downs were due to the renewed suspicion that now followed me around wherever I went from most of the students and indeed, most of the staff too. No doubt this was because of the Golden Trio's version of events from that night. They had obviously branded me a Dark Witch and the tale of our little run-in, along with the rumours about my wand, had caused more than two thirds of the school to turn against me.

While most in Ravenclaw and the entirety of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Houses were firmly set against me, and by association Luna, the Slytherins attitude also seemed to undergo a shift. Fortunately, it was a slightly more positive one. Many of them were surprising polite to us now, if not particularly friendly.

Then there were the nightmares that plagued my dreams. They didn't come every night but it was often enough that I began to dread going to sleep.

It was always the same, I was dragged before the red eyed wizard with the high, but rather scary and intimidating, voice and the cruel laugh. He would point that pale, evil looking wand at me and the agony would begin ... and not end for a very long time. Some nights it was so bad that my cries woke Luna. Although this was slightly ameliorated by the fact that she would spend the next hour cuddling me tightly before taking me to the bathroom to personally wash the sweat from my body.

As always, where there are downs there must be ups to compensate.

Even taking into account the extra antagonistic behaviour of a certain group of Gryffindor led idiots, November was still a pretty good month for me at Hogwarts. My English was getting better and better which improved the effectiveness of my studies no end. Indeed, I was coming along so fast that I was, not only catching up to my fourth year compatriots, but was actually in some danger of progressing to the next year level before Easter.

The extra lessons with Madame Vector and professor Flitwick were paying good dividends but what was really pushing me to go the extra mile were my private tuition sessions with my beautiful Luna. Her system of learning was thankfully rather different to the teachers and involved the use of both rewards and discipline. The kisses that I received for correctly answering a question were certainly a wonderful incentive but I had to work really hard not to slip in the occasional wrong answer since the light spanking that followed secretly thrilled me just as much. Her too if those delighted little squeals and giggles that emanated from her as she slapped her small hand against my reddening derriere were anything to go by.

Our relationship was moving fast. Fast enough that we didn't now require the second bed in our shared room. Not that we had gone 'all the way' yet but we probably weren't far off of it. We were sixteen and in love. I'm only surprised that I managed to restrain myself from bending her over and fucking her on the staff table at breakfast, let alone in the privacy of our own room.

An annoying issue in relation to my burgeoning love life was that I was becoming the source of attention from the boys of both Slytherin and Ravenclaw. To my mind, even the Greengrass girls, who I had been spending an increasing amount of time with recently, and were undeniably gorgeous, couldn't hold a candle to my funny, quirky, little nargle queen. These chinless, spoiled, entitled aristocrats and dull, dry scholars didn't have a hope in Hell. Not to mention that they had _all_ the wrong equipment for me.

I decided to put an end to this parade of morons by being far more attentive to Luna when in public and even going so far as to call her my girlfriend at dinner one night. Unfortunately, this change in the status of our relationship did not go as well as I had hoped so as good as November was for me, by the second week of December things had become considerably less pleasant. It seemed that the British magical population were far less tolerant of same sex couples than my own countrymen.

I never cared for myself, of course, I had spent too much of my life being the outcast for that sort of thing to bother me even slightly. No. It was Luna that I felt sorry for. My new girlfriend was so precious to me that I may have over-reacted in my response. Just a touch. She had told me something of the bullying that she had been subjected to in her younger years but even this hadn't prepared her for some of the insults and overt hatred that was being directed our way. My 'red eyed rage', as Luna called it, had sent many students and more than one teacher fleeing for their lives when their comments went further than I deemed to be tasteful.

I rather enjoyed the sensation of being feared and anyway, Luna found my 'pretty' red irises irresistible so I really didn't have a good incentive to stop this behaviour. Since I got rewarded for it, I would actually go out of my way to find excuses to use it on people.

To their great credit, Daphne and Astoria stood by us despite the risk to their own reputation as did professor Snape, who was being slightly less creepy and more protective of us. Whether it was these supporters or whether it was something else going on I'm not sure, but the only ones treating us even half decently were the Slytherins who had been previously hounding me for dates. I suspected that it was Snape laying down the law and Daphne who was well known for being a bit too quick with certain, groin based, curses.

My naivety knew no bounds in those days and I was actually grateful to the greasy bastard and his two blonde, siren, sidekicks. As it would soon be proved, I was a fucking idiot.

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After all of the name calling and snide remarks it was with a sense of great relief that the Yule holiday came to Hogwarts. I, of course, was staying at the castle, having nowhere else to go since Luna's father hadn't been appraised of our new romantic situation. Not that I would ever have pushed her to do so. Luna had her reasons and she would do it when she was ready.

She would have invited me back to her family home for the celebrations anyway except for the fact that we were entirely unable to be in the same room for more than two minutes without engaging in some pretty heavy snogging. Since this would inevitably lead to much awkwardness and probably some fractious yelling when Mister Lovegood caught us, we decided not to risk it.

As it turned out I received another invitation anyway.

.

Stepping out of the floo and falling immediately on my perfectly formed derrierre was an embarrassing way to arrive at my, supposed, best friends' house but it was nothing compared to my irritation at being likened to the hated Harry Potter. His lack of grace at any kind of magical travel was, apparently, legendary. I soon forgot all of this when I started to look around me, however.

With my limited scale of anything to compare it to, I thought that Greengrass Manor was a very impressive place. Looking back now, I remember it as being a little faded and overly ostentatious but the girl I was then was simply over-awed that a single family of four lived here on their own in this massive house and possessed all of this finery.

The elder Greengrasses greeted me politely and seemed extremely anxious that I should relax and enjoy myself while I enjoyed their hospitality. They were attentive to my needs, sweet and kind and basically treated me like I was one of the family.

I should perhaps have been wary of their affectionate reaction to an unknown, French peasant girl whose only claim on their time was that I was acquainted with their daughters at school. But, of course, I knew nothing of the habits and customs of these people so I, rather stupidly, accepted it at face value. Although what professor Snape was also doing there was something of a mystery to me since I had hardly seen him talking to Daphne or Astoria let alone behave like a family friend.

It became all too clear what his task was on the second morning, Christmas Day.

After an enjoyable breaking of the fast with my hosts, at which I was even presented with gifts to my great shock (and chagrin since I hadn't been able to get them anything), I was led to another room by my professor. It was the sitting room where I had first arrived and in front of the fireplace was a shadowy, hooded figure. I didn't have time to wonder either at his identity or why I was being introduced to him before the Potions Master put the matter to bed.

"Miss Riddle, allow me to introduce ... your father ... Lord Voldemort."

When the tall, black robed figure turned around to face me, I very nearly collapsed right then and there. It was the red eyed wizard from my pain filled nightmares.

There was a _very_ awkward silence as we stared at one another.

The man, although I use the term in its loosest possible sense, was pale, thin and bald with almost serpentine features and an almost complete lack of a nose. My respect for my mother dropped a few notches. It had never been particularly high, to be fair, but seeing this ugly, snake faced grotesque that she had allowed to touch her in the most intimate of ways made it nose-dive even further.

I sucked up my instant and instinctual disgust, thinking that this man, my father, must have _some_ redeeming qualities if my mother had 'entertained' him. Also, he was a Lord as well as my biological father so he might just be persuaded to take me out shopping for new books to study. And maybe a nice dress so that I could look pretty for my girlfriend. Taking a deep breath, I curtsied and sang out in my most engaging and girly voice.

"Bonjour pere, es tu bien?" (Hello father, are you well?)

An embarrassing way to introduce yourself to the most evil, Dark Lord to plague the magical world in centuries, but like I said, I was _very_ naive and a bit of an idiot back then.

.

After twenty minutes of vaguely inane chatter where I used up all of my okay, but not exactly scintillating, English pleasantries, the Dark Lord finally decided to get to the point of why he'd had arranged to have me invited here. Other than wanting to get to know his precious, misplaced, darling daughter, who he definitely _hadn't_ sent someone to kill the minute he heard about their existence, of course. Oh no, hang on, he _did_ do that, didn't he?

As is probably obvious from my sarcasm, our conversation was not going well.

I have always been defiant little thing even from my birth, my Grandmere told me that I took an unreasonably long time to arrive in the world after my mother's labour started and that the first word I ever spoke was 'no'. It appeared that my father was having similar problems in attaining my co-operation in his plans.

"You will do as you're told girl." The fiend's eyes glowed red with barely repressed rage at my stubborn behaviour. "You are my daughter, the blood of my blood, an heiress of the great Salazar Slytherin himself. You will be held to a higher standard than any others in my organisation. It is why you _must_ submit ... or be punished."

Quite honestly, I wasn't too fussed about being in his organisation but I was okay with 'submitting' to some of it. Very useful lessons on pureblood etiquette from the smoking hot Lady Greengrass? Sure, why not. Learning dark magic from an undisputed master of the art? Sign me up, Daddio. Unfortunately, the fact that his 'plans' also involved him whoring me out to that little prick Malfoy and the rest of his inbred followers to breed some kind of Dark magical, master race, however, were always going to get a firmly negative response.

"Va te faire foutre, batard."

Apparently, father was quite the student of the lower end of French cursing and took great offense when I told him to go fuck himself, as the next word out of that awful slit of a mouth of his was ...

 _"Crucio."_

And just like in my dreams there was the thin, lipless smile formed on his otherwise expressionless face as he hit me with the 'unforgiveable' torture curse.

Again.

And again.

And again.

A word of caution for any budding Dark Lords or Ladies reading this. Don't spit in the eye of someone older, more experienced and more ruthless than you currently are, especially if you're so far behind in your magical education that you can't even cast a decent shield yet. Not that knowing the _protego_ charm would have helped me much. A _crucio_ cuts through a shield like a hot knife through ... well pretty much anything organic really.

.

I honestly couldn't say how many times he _crucio'd_ me or for how long it went on. I know that it was the morning when I went into that room and that by the time I was dragged out of it the lamps were lit. All my world consisted of that day was pain. Such a small word for what that curse does to a person. To their body. To their mind. I could use others, I suppose, the English dictionary is full of wonderfully descriptive and exotic synonyms for it. But in the end, it all boils down to the same thing.

Pain.

Un-ending, un-endurable pain.

I had never felt the like of it before. And I hope to never feel the like of it again. That's not to say that I haven't been on the receiving end a few _crucios_ since then, but they were nothing like that day. They say that the first time is the one that you always remember.

They are not wrong.

Whether it was just because it my first time or because of whose hands that time was at I really couldn't say. It certainly left an impression though. Both physical and psychological.

Let me try and describe it for you, although a description can never really convey just how bad it actually is, you have to experience it at first hand for that, but I'll give it a go if you like. Actually, I don't care if you like it or not, I'm still going to tell you.

So, imagine being burned. Oh, I'm not talking about scalding yourself with coffee or brushing your finger against a red hot, cauldron bottom, I mean actually burned. Like you're on fire. It's a bit like that. Except that every, and I mean _every_ , synapse, nerve ending or blood cell in your entire body feels like its been provided with it's own personal furnace with the sole purpose of turning it to ash.

Now imagine that feeling starting and stopping ... and starting ... and stopping ... and starting ... between ten and a hundred times a second ... for as long as the caster has the will and the power to keep it activated and on you. As I said, words can't really do it justice, but that's kind of what it's like.

There's a reason why it's called an 'unforgiveable' curse. It will break anyone in the end.

Surviving it though, making it through all of that pain and coming out the other side, that makes you feel strangely powerful. It also gives you a unique insight into how the curse works. Well it did for me anyway, but that might simply be my own talent and predilection for using Dark magic enabling me to see things that shouldn't be seen when under its fierce influence. Perversely, it became one my favourite curses to use on my enemies, though I never made the mistake of letting anyone live after they'd been exposed to it. Unlike dear old Dad.

I always wondered later, if that was his plan. To toughen me up, to break me before re-molding me into his vision of the perfect 'Dark Daughter', powerful and un-afraid but always obedient to his will. If it was his goal then it was a damned silly way to go about getting it. I have no idea whether the girl I was then would have responded to bribery as well as I did in later life but you'd have thought that he might, at least, have tried the carrot approach before resorting to the stick.

In the end, all his lesson did was to teach me just how much of a bastard he was and how much better off I'd be with him dead. I mean, _really_ , who the fuck _crucios_ their own daughter and then expects her to respect them for it afterwards? Fucking idiot.

.

After being told that Papa was _dissapointed_ in me (which I'd kind of figured out), something about an attitude adjustment and talking again at Easter, I was dragged out of the sitting room by Snape and deposited, unceremoniously into a padded, upright chair at a long, polished table. The greasy, treacherous bastard managed to have a good old grope of my most intimate areas while performing this feat. It was the first and last time a man ever laid his hand on me I can assure you, and it was hopefully as unpleasant for him as it was for me as I must have been awfully sweaty and quite bloody by then. But you never know with Snape. Strange was a word that could have been designed just for that _man_. Well at least until I ...

Ah, but no. A story for later, that one, I think.

I sat in silence in the dining room chair for what felt like hours to my poor, shaking, twitching and pain wracked body, determined not to move one inch or speak one word. I didn't want to let these people see me break. I would not favour them with so much as a single glance in their direction. These people had betrayed me. They had suckered me in with their false smiles and their promises of friendship and then they had fed me to that beast.

I swore to myself that would never trust another person as long as I lived.

It didn't quite work out like that but I truly meant it at the time.

In my defiance to these traitors I did not move, did not eat, did not drink, did not so much as cast a single glance at any of them. Picking a spot on the bare wall I stared at it and forced myself into a meditative state, thinking dark thoughts of the curses I needed to learn in order to exact my vengeance upon these English couchons. I had retched a few times onto the table, bringing up nothing but bile obviously, which amused me somewhat, but other than that I just sat. And stared. And suffered.

As I sat there I let my fury grow in time with the agony that wracked my body as I forced it to be perfectly still, despite the after effects of my torture and the thirst and the hunger. My mind was consumed by my rage and I promised that I would visit back upon them what I had suffered a hundred-fold. I would gather every book on the Dark Arts that I could, learn every single spell, every single curse, every single potion that could cause them as much harm as possible. I would master them for one purpose and one purpose only.

My vengeance.

After two days of this, their resolve to just let me stew in my own juice was broken, they couldn't take it or the smell (I was quite ripe by that stage) any more and I was told to go back to Hogwarts. I required the assistance of two House elves to even get out of my chair let alone to then get to the fireplace in the sitting room.

The very same sitting room where I had been _crucio'd_ almost to insanity and death. Passing the rug where I had writhed under my father's wand a hardness formed in my gut and I turned to my _generous_ hosts.

"Thank-you for your ... _hospitality_... Monsieur et Madame, Mademoiselles. I can promise you that it will be remembered for a long time to come ... and repaid _in full_."

I think that is when they realised what they had done and who they had done it to.

It would have been difficult not to. The gravel in my voice and the red haze that coloured my vision, meaning that my eyes were likely glowing that colour again, made my intent very clear. I was my father's daughter and I would have my revenge upon those who had betrayed me.

Snape, those bitches and their disgusting parents, those piss poor excuses for human beings, I would make them all suffer.

I vowed to myself that they would hurt as I had hurt. They would bleed as I had bled. I would take everything that they held dear and destroy it before their horrified eyes ... and then I would _end_ them.

And as for my father, Lord Voldemort? He would not be getting off so lightly.

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 **As usual I write for me. Honestly, I really don't mind if nobody else reads this at all but reviews are always nice and I'd certainly never turn them away, just don't get caught up in the whole 'they would never do that' trap. This is all going to be pretty AU stuff.**

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 **DtR xx.**


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